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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24127351">Inappropriate Behavior</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jg22362236/pseuds/Jg22362236'>Jg22362236</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Walking Dead &amp; Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, Drama &amp; Romance, F/M, Friendship/Love, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:21:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,830</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24127351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jg22362236/pseuds/Jg22362236</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl is appointed therapy by the court, and who better to soothe his tired mind, than Beth Greene. Beth knows it's wrong to see her client, but when she finds herself facing a demented soul, she has no one else to turn to.  A/U no Apocalypses</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello Everyone, this a story I wrote a while ago and recently found again. I would like to share with you a new, entertaining idea I have had. I hope everyone enjoys this side of Beth and Daryl... Of course, if you like a cocky Daryl and a usually sweet Beth, you will. Enjoy and please review</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>CHAPTER 1</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Beth hated this part of the job. Sitting back from her desk she stared at the file before her on the mahogany top. As much as she despised this part of her profession, it was just as important to give it her all, as an actual paying patient. She had to remind herself they were just as deserving of her help as any other human being with problems.<br/>
</p><p>Court Appointed Therapy. Those were the last words any psychologist wanted to read upon opening the manila folder. Granted nine-tenths of incarnated individuals were in desperate need of therapy and a renewed direction in their life. She in no way disputed this small fact.</p><p>The problem with court appointed patients however was their total lack of desire for her assistance. Nine-tenths of these individuals didn’t want her help, and often they enlightened her to the fact that they didn’t need her impute.</p><p>These head strong individuals were content with the disorder in their lives, and despite her best efforts to steer them toward a new path, they were just as determined to continue their hectic lifestyle. Nibbling on her recently manicured nails, she stared blindly at the file before her, her free hand opening the cover to glance at the first page.<br/>
</p><p>While it was typical for juvenile records to be expunged after a person turned eighteen offering the individual a clean start, this judge had obviously found it necessary to include this man’s priors. Glancing over the first page of charges, she flipped to the second, and then the third.</p><p>This guy had been in and out of the juvenile correctional facilities since he’d only been fifteen. Flipping back to the first page she sought out his date of birth. Born October 25, 1980. Damn that made him almost thirty-five, she quickly calculated. That meant he’d been in and out of the correctional system for the last 15 years.<br/>
</p><p>What the hell did the judge really think she’d be able to do for this man?</p><p>Suspended for fighting, June 5, 1989. Arrested for assault, April 12, 1995. Arrested for vandalism, July 25, 1998. Arrested for assault, September 23 of the same year. The charges went on and on, and that was before he hit his majority, she cringed.</p><p>Shuffling to more recent offenses, she scanned a list of charges two pages long, ranging from drunken disorderly to assault. This man obviously had a violent streak a mile wide. Judging by his legal record this man had known a violent background. She knew this without catching so much as a glimpse of him.</p><p>There was a reason Beth had graduated top of her class from Harvard University for Criminal Psychology. She had several degrees hanging above her head to prove it to. She could spot a troubled soul from miles away. Case studies were always her favorite. Studying an individual for hours, listening to their earliest memories to determine the cause of their deeply rooted problems.</p><p>While she may be a whiz at determining why a person does what they do, changing their behavior was up to that individual. They needed to see what the root of the problem was and the best way to fix their erratic behavior. Until they were willing to see what caused their issues all the guidance in the world wouldn’t help. And that was the problem with Court Appointed Therapy.</p><p>Brushing a strand of long blond hair from her cheek, she tucked it behind her ear, her pencil tapping with annoyance against her desk. If she ever hoped to work with the Victims Unit in New York, she would need to do her fair share of cases for the Atlanta Police Department first, she decided sitting back against her high backed leather chair.<br/>
</p><p>Breathing a heavy sigh, she looked at her phone as Carol buzzed her office. With a headache starting with a dull thud in her temples, she nibbled her lip as the white light blinked awaiting her acknowledgement.</p><p>This could be her opportunity, she deciphered. If she could help this man, she would have her ticket into the NYPD. She could be working with some of the best detectives in the world bringing down high profiled criminals, making the streets a better place for everyone involved within months.</p><p>It was scary how one simple act could dictate your whole future. Your actions had the ability to determine your success. Despite her incredible record and success stories, she couldn’t help wondering if she had the skills to alter the destructive path this man seemed to be on.</p><p>She was after all only twenty-five, and this man was what? Thirty-five.</p><p>He’d been causing hell longer than she’d been alive. Yes, she had helped Carl Grimes. She had counseled him into a better direction. He’d went from flunking all of his classes to high B’s. That hadn’t been a very easy task considering the determination he’d chosen to wreck his future.  By the time she’d started counseling him, he’d already been in the system two years, but alas she’d succeeded.</p><p>She was betting however that his problems had been less severe than this man’s. With his file spread wide before her, she read the four pages that listed the inhumane things he’d faced since he’d been a child.</p><p>The fifth page even contained pictures from when the State of Georgia had removed him from his home. Tears readily stung her light blue eyes as she studied the marks on the child’s back. There was even a welt from where he’d been struck with the buckle of a belt. </p><p>Whoever did this deserved to be incarcerated for the rest of their lives, she determined. She doubted however the person responsible had seen one day in jail for the inhumanity.<br/>
</p><p>Swallowing the well of emotion clogging her throat, Beth let her French tipped forefinger trace a purplish welt. No child should have to live the horrors this one had faced.<br/>
Again the buzzer on her phone jerked her out of her thoughts. Glancing at her clock, she was already five minutes behind schedule. That meant all of her appointments would be five minutes behind today.</p><p>“You’re off to a great start, Beth,” she chided herself. With great effort, she shut the file before her. She would help this man if it killed her, she decided, and she would start by reading every single word in this folder this evening until she formulated an adequate plan.</p><p>Reaching across her desk, she pressed the white blinking button, indicating her appending appointment. “Carol, I’m ready, can you send Mr. Dixon in please.”</p><p>That was his name right? She worried, glancing down at the folder in front of her. Thank god, she breathed when she caught sight of his neatly scrawled name across the front.<br/>
</p><p>She’d been so fixated on his case, somehow finding his name had been the least of her priorities. She was thankful to see however that her subconscious had stored the information for her.</p><p>It would not be good for her new patient to hear the wrong name over the intercom. That kind of error would send the wrong message entirely. He would have this ongoing complex from the jump and that wouldn’t be good. He would believe she cared so little for him, she couldn’t be bothered to learn his name. And if her guess was correct, too few people had cared about this man.</p><p>A light tap on the door alerted her to Carol’s arrival. Nerves ate at her stomach as she climbed from her leather seat and made her way to the solid oak. She tried to ease the slight shake of her fingers as she reached for the doorknob. Briefly, she closed her eyes and coached herself before tightening her hold on the cool metal.</p><p>With a welcoming smile pulling at her lips, she eased the door open to find Catharine standing directly in front of the barrier. Instantly, her secretary’s worried brow caught her attention and her apprehension increased. Carol always had a positive smile on her lips, but apparently not in regards to her new patient.</p><p>Beth’s jitters increased when Carol stepped aside to admit the man whom Beth had yet to see. Heavy booted feet hit the floor as he approached the open door, Carol automatically stepping back to allow him to cross the threshold, and Beth wouldn’t deny the twisting of her guts as hard cold eyes stared into hers as he slipped inside her office.<br/>
</p><p>This was a dangerous man, she thought. Whomever chose to tangle with this grizzly was braver than anyone she knew. </p><p>His eyes were piercing. They seemed to reach inside your soul and demand a piece. It took everything inside Beth to keep herself from shaking into a million pieces under the weight of that stare.</p><p>Her nostrils flared as she took in the sight of him. His hair was greasy, his bangs were to long matching the state of his side burns, she quickly determined. His arms were marked with sweat and dirt from his shoulders to his work-roughened hands. His mouth was framed with a disheveled mustache and beard, the start of a gray streak quickly drawing her attention to his chin. </p><p>He wore a dingy flannel with the sleeves ripped out beneath a well-worn leather vest. His pants were equally dirty, and holes ripped in the knees. His boots were probably the only thing not completely trash worthy, in her quick estimation, she decided.</p><p>Holy smokes, Beth cursed. </p><p>She had her work cut out for her. Usually people tried to give her a false impression that they had their ducks in a row so to speak. This man didn’t seem to care what impression he gave her. </p><p>Huh.</p><p>She had to admit however despite his current state of dress at least he didn’t smell like the dumpster he looked like he crawled out of. No. This man smelled like the forest. Like he spent hours roaming the depths of nature few people knew existed.</p><p>Huh.</p><p>Beth tore her gaze away from Mr. Dixon’s predatory glare. Glancing at the older woman nearing her fifties, she nodded to Carol. “Thanks, Carol. That will be all.”</p><p>Beth pretended no to see the older woman mouth the words “good luck” to her as she turned back to Mr. Dixon and slowly closed the door. She had to really determine the wisdom of being shut into this office with this bear of a man, but her profession demanded her afford him privacy.</p><p> Clearing her throat, she lifted a soft hand indicating the chair in front of her desk. “Please, Mr. Dixon, take a seat and get comfortable.”</p><p>His lips were set in a grim line his cold stare never wavering from her face. “Sure ya got time, princess. ‘Ppointment was at one. Yer several minutes late.”</p><p>Beth was grateful she’d been raised in Georgia otherwise his redneck slang may have been lost on her. She could pretend that she’d lost track of time, but she knew this man with the soul penetrating stare would see right through any fabrication she could fathom. “Actually, Daryl, I may call you Daryl, right?”</p><p>“Suppose,” he grunted in reply as she left him standing where he stood and made her way back to her desk. He had to hand it to her. As affected by his presence as she’d been when he’d entered the office, she sure seemed to have her wits together as she took her seat, her bright blues dancing back to study him. Her light blond brow lifting expectantly.<br/>
</p><p>Obviously, the doll before him expected him to take the seat she’d offered. Instead however, his chin jutted with a stubborn tilt, and he crossed hard lean arms over his equally defined chest in a stubborn declaration.</p><p>Beth chose to ignore the gesture. If he wanted to act like a stubborn child, then so be it. If she mentioned his defiance it would only reinforce his poor behavior. Anyone who’d taken Psych 101 knew that. Instead, she smiled.</p><p>“The truth is, Daryl, I was in here looking over your file,” Beth began, watching as his stance stiffened. “I am hoping that our time together will be beneficial to us both.”</p><p> </p><p>Daryl was feeling extra surly today, he realized. The more he thought about having his head shrunk the testier he got. And by a baby?</p><p>The girl looked like she should be at some high school dance surrounded by jocks, not digging into his head, unraveling his secrets. Not that his life was a fuckin’ secret, everything the girl wanted to know about him was probably in the file before her.</p><p>“Are y’ even qualified to be shrinkin’ my head?” Daryl grumbled his wandering gaze darting overhead at the degrees lining the wall. “Maybe you stole the identity of this Beth Greene  person. Look like yer in fuckin’ high school or somethin’.”</p><p>Her smile barely faltered at his quick assessment of her age. It was hard remaining immune to her smile. It was genuinely sweet. Like she really gave a shit, or something.<br/>

</p>
<p>How could she give a shit? She didn’t know a damn thing about him.</p><p>When she didn’t immediately answer his question, he wandered a few feet further into the room stopping before her desk. Lifting his hands in annoyance, he stared her in the eye, “Well, cat got yer tongue, princess?”</p><p>A shiver ran through her as Beth studied him. He would never ever know how hard it was to maintain her calm. She would be damned if she let this man scare her however. “The degrees you see overhead are indeed mine, and I would like you to know I graduated at the top of my class. I should have introduced myself upon your entrance. I am Beth Greene , but most people merely call me Beth.”</p><p>He stared at her with disbelief evident in his gaze. She didn’t look a minute over seventeen. Actually, he felt like a pervert as he let his blue eyes trace the curves evident by her pant-suit. He let his gaze linger on her breasts. “Can I jus’ call ya, Doogie?”</p><p>Her brow crinkled in confusion. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand, Daryl.”</p><p>His lips twitched at his pun. “Suppose yer t’ young fer Doogie Howser.”</p><p>They were wasting precious time, Beth thought, as her mind sought to figure out who Doogie Howser was. Whatever, she thought. She would simply Google this ‘Doggie’ later. “You may call me whatever you like, Mr. Dixon.”</p><p>His attempt at ruffling her feathers failed miserably. This girl-woman masked any emotion she may be feeling with her simple smile. He wasn’t used to anyone being unflappable when he was openly ridiculing them. </p><p>His lashes dropped in a glare as he took in her angelic face.</p><p>Beth was slightly taken aback when Daryl Dixon dropped into the seat before her. One booted foot immediately crossed to rest on his knee, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair as he nibbled his thumb, his gaze never wavering from hers.</p><p>She wasn’t stupid. She knew he’d openly insulted her. She may not know who Doogie Howser was, but she heard the sarcasm in his voice. “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Daryl?”</p><p>Daryl watched her flip open a notepad, her pencil hovering over the blank sheet, her bright blues bravely assessing him. His eyes flickered to the file before her. “Prolly already know everythin’.”</p><p>Beth understood his statement, but he couldn’t be more wrong. All she really knew was what the system deemed important. Hoping to gain his trust, she picked up the manila folder, opening her desk drawer, she let the file drop into the drawer with a thud. “Let’s pretend there is no file. Tell me something about yourself, Daryl. Anything you deem important.”</p><p>Beth was desperately trying to ignore her awareness of this man. He was beyond attractive, but she supposed he was unaware of that fact. As his therapist it would not be in her best interest to find him appealing. It was completely unethical to be attracted to a patient. In fact, too many psychologist had acted in an unethical fashion in the past, shining a very poor like on the profession.</p><p>Forcefully, she tore her gaze off of the pounding pulse that seemed to increase in speed under her stare. She found her pale eyes tracing the open v of his flannel.<br/>
</p><p>Okay, this was not good, she scolded, noticing a few hairs curling over a button.</p><p>Huh.</p><p>Was his therapist checking him out?</p><p>He’d have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to notice the interest sparking her eyes. “How bout y’ answer me a question first, Doogie?” </p><p>Startled by his request, her gaze quickly met his, nodding in agreement. “Sure, ask anything, Mr. Dixon.”</p><p>“Are ya hopin’ t’ roll in the hay with a fella on the other side of the tracks?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Beth and Daryl session... followed by an encounter with an old classmate, and Daryl's self-reflection.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am very excited by the turn out to this new-old story of mine. I am thrilled to see some old fans from ff joining us, and new readers as well. I thoroughly appreciate every single comment, and kudo. Thanks for all of your support. </p><p>Please Review....</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Beth stared wide-eyed at her patient. She felt the flesh of her cheeks heat at least ten degrees hotter than her normal body temperature. Were her wayward thoughts that transparent? Could Daryl Dixon really know that she had spied the sprinkle of hair poking out of his shirt? </p><p>Oh geez. </p><p>That was the very last thing she wanted him to know, she thought, feeling the sudden need to squirm in her seat. She didn’t move a muscle however. Even the smile on her face felt frozen in place. She barely squashed the urge to fan her flaming cheeks. </p><p>How was she supposed to answer his question without lying?</p><p>She never, ever lied to a patient. That was not the way to bond with an individual, or encourage them to confide in you. Maybe she could just this one time, she reasoned. It would do neither of them any good for her to admit she’d been ogling his chest, wondering if the solid wall was just as defined as his solid arms.</p><p>The twinkle she found in his dark blue gaze dared her to lie. If she did he would never open up about what caused his bouts of temper, and from what she’d seen in his record, consistent drug and alcohol use. The best way to handle this was to merely brush it off, she decided. If she was indirect with her answer, she could never be accused of something that had never left her lips.</p><p>“We—well,” she stammered searching for the right words. “That Mr. Dixon is something you will never know.”</p><p>It was true, Daryl admitted to himself. He’d been waiting for her to fabricate some ridiculous excuse for her intimate inspection, but to his utter surprise she had not. Instead she’d neatly danced around the topic, leaving him to guess, his lashes lowered as he scowled at the girl-woman who refused to be browbeaten by him.</p><p>Well, he could always give it another shot, he determined studying her, her smile irritating him in a way he couldn’t explain. “How old are ya?”</p><p>Beth leaned back in her seat to look at Daryl. He was teetering so close to the edge of impropriety. How best to handle this man who didn’t seem to know the meaning of boundaries. The corner of her lips tipped as a thought crossed her mind.</p><p> If the devil wanted to spare then they would spare, within reason, of course.</p><p>“Actually, Daryl, I already answered one of your questions.” Eyeing him with a serious gleam, she crossed her arms over her breasts. “I think it only fair if you answer one of mine.”<br/>

</p>
<p>She could tell by his grunt that he wasn’t exactly excited by the prospect. He even climbed to his feet and moved several paces away as if the thought made him want to flee. She needed to start small, and work her way to bigger topics. “Are you an only sibling, or do you have brothers and sisters?”</p><p>“Doogie, I hardly think having siblin’s matters here,” he replied, glaring back at her from where he stood by the window. </p><p>What was this girl up to?</p><p>Annoyance flared at the nickname he’d given her. She had the urge to pull out her laptop here and now and find out who this Doogie person was.  She needed to focus on the task at hand, and stop letting this man throw her off course.</p><p>“It matters more than you may think, Daryl. It is important to have support when you are trying to redirect bad habits. Someone to pull you back from the edge so to speak. Someone to call when you feel yourself slipping.” Beth explained all this slowly as if she spoke to a child. </p><p>While this information wasn’t rocket science, most people failed to see how much a social network actually helped.</p><p>Daryl’s thoughts instantly turned to Merle. His older brother couldn’t control his own life let alone help him. No, Merle wouldn’t be any type of support in this case. Shrugging, he replied, “Gotta brother, but he’s not much on supportin’ others.”</p><p>Sympathy filled Beth’s gaze as she studied the man hovering close to the window, his meaning clear. She thought of her own bond with Rebecca and Shaun. She would have wondered off the path several times during her childhood if it hadn’t been for their constant supervision and guidance. “I’m sorry to hear that, Daryl.”</p><p>As she fell silent, she thought over some other options for him. “How about a preacher, or a friend?”</p><p>Daryl couldn’t stop the chuckle from slipping from his lips. “Do I look like I go to church?”</p><p>Put that way, Beth supposed not. For the life of her she couldn’t see Mr. Dixon sitting silently in a pew while a minister talked about hell. He’d be more like the person dozing near the back door awaiting his escape.</p><p>“What about a friend?”</p><p>As she waited for him to answer her eyes danced over the forbidden terrain of his lean body. His chest seemed broad, and she knew without a doubt his pecks would be just as defined as the rest of him. When her blue eyes strayed to his lower body, she could swear he grew restless as if he sensed once again she was ogling him.</p><p>She was caught by surprise when he moved away from the window, and came to stand directly in front of her desk. Grime covered hands landed on the mahogany top as he leaned in close to her. </p><p>Gruffly, he spoke, his face only inches from her own. “How old are ya, Doogie?”</p><p>The smile left her lips as she swallowed nervously. She couldn’t have refused him an answer if she wanted to. The words just seemed to slip out of their own accord. “Twenty-five.”<br/>

</p>
<p>Daryl let his harsh breath fan her lips. He had an overwhelming urge to taste the bottom lip that was pulled tight in apprehension. That wasn’t his purpose however, he reminded himself at the last minute. “Have a mind t’ call yer daddy, and tell him his daughters havin’ naughty thoughts bout an ol’ man.”</p><p>Beth’s curious gaze darted down the front of his shirt when the material gapped open in front of her. She didn’t know what made her say her next words, or what coyness caused them. Tracing the muscles beneath his shirt, she finally met his gaze with her own. “You don’t know his number.”</p><p>The muscle in his jaw ticked at her simple response. The answer may have been simple, but the underling meaning was far from it. “Maybe I’ll jus’ give yer ass a swat fer him.”<br/>

</p>
<p>Beth couldn’t explain the tingle of pleasure that shot through her veins at his words. The thought of having his hand anywhere near her ass did things to her she’d never imagined. A visible shudder rippled through her.</p><p>What did she see in the man hovering over her? </p><p>Hundreds of men had tried to date her during high school, even college. Men who had their futures planned out much like her own. Men who had loads of money, and degrees. Men who looked and acted nothing at all like Daryl Dixon.</p><p> Perhaps the thrill had to do with the fact that this was completely forbidden. Maybe she was interested because she could see the strength that vibrated through him. Maybe it was the hard set of his incredible lips so very close at the moment. Perhaps just a touch of her attraction had something to do with the danger that radiated from him.</p><p>Whatever it was about Daryl Dixon that made him different from all the other men she’d known, she had absolutely no business seeing it. She had her career to think of. She had her future plans to think of. Disappointment replaced the desire that had started to build in her.</p><p>“That would be very inappropriate, Daryl,” she stated, forcing herself to back her chair up several inches.</p><p>Daryl glowered at the girl before him. He’d nearly had her. If he pushed just a little harder he could break this enticing girl’s resolve. For what purpose? Did he want to crush Beth Greene’s spirit?</p><p>No. </p><p>He found her inner strength more enchanting than the rapid rise and fall of her perky young breasts. That was new, he decided. He never let someone touch him deep inside, but he could feel this girl’s words and bravado soothing over his battered heart. </p><p>Even so, he refused to let her know the effect she was having on him.</p><p>“T’ bad might’a been good,” he stated, his granite eyes still locked with hers. The thought of the flat of his hand coming into contact with her delicious bottom had his fingers curling in upon themselves. Even Miss Greene  noticed, her gaze dropping to rest on the fist resting on the desktop.</p><p>Beth gulped as she studied the hand before her. Slowly, her eyes returned to his. Thankfully she was already sitting, because if she’d been standing the weight of his stare would have buckled her knees. “Again, Mr. Dixon, we will never know.”</p><p>“Maybe one day we will.” His lips twitched as he withheld a knowing smirk. Her words could deny interest in him, but the light in her eyes was another matter entirely. Actually, her words hadn’t exactly denied her desire. She’d just neatly evaded the issue once again.</p><p>Releasing a shaky breath, Beth’s gaze traced the lines of his face. “Mr. Dixon, we will never know. For one, any involvement between us would be beyond unethical; for me, as your therapist to engage in anything physical with you. Two, it would be unbecoming; for me, as your therapist to take advantage of your, let’s say, vulnerable state.”</p><p>A wave of his hand stopped her as he straightened away from the desk. With a sparkle in his eyes the corner of his mouth lifted. “Feel free, Miss Greene, t’ take advantage any time ya like.”</p><p>Beth’s lashes dropped against a creamy white cheeks, and she counted to ten. He just wouldn’t stop with these provocative comments. Finally, she felt like she had control over her wayward thoughts, and she calmly met his gaze. </p><p>“Daryl, we need to keep our acquaintance completely professional.”</p><p>“Ya remember that the next time y’ let those eyes wander over my body, Doogie,” he chided, resuming his spot next to the window. “Don’t think I didn’t jus’ feel yer eyes on my ass jus’ now.”</p><p>For what seemed like the hundredth time since she’d met him, her cheeks went pink. How had he known her eyes had strayed to his ass? He hadn’t even been looking in her direction. Not that she could see much of it anyway with his flannel covering it, she inwardly pouted.</p><p>Get a fucking grip, Beth.</p><p>She could always call the judge and have him issue another therapist for Daryl Dixon. The thought was so ludicrous she immediately pushed it away. She would in no way, shape or form, admit to the judge that she couldn’t handle Daryl Dixon. She would just have to find a way to curb her interest.</p><p>All she really should need to do was remember he was closing in on thirty-six. Then there was the ill-manner in which he carried himself. His state of dress. His rude comments. The greasy strands of hair that kept getting in his eyes. The list of reasons not to find Daryl Dixon appealing went on and on.</p><p>Yet somehow all these things just seemed to add to his uniqueness. He was unlike any other person she’d ever met. She may have helped people like him before, but none of the others had been able to get under her skin.</p><p>It took a great amount of effort on her part to climb out of the gutter. Actually, she more like unwillingly crawled out, but ‘apples and oranges’, right. The only thing that mattered was she did. Clearing her throat, she shifted the conversation back where it belonged.</p><p>“Do you have a friend? Someone who can be there if you need someone?” her words came out a tad husky, but she blamed that on Daryl. If he hadn’t so acutely picked up on her thoughts and placed new ones in her head, she would have been just fine.</p><p>“Nah, not really,” he grumbled, glaring back at the girl behind the desk. That damnable smile was back in place, he noticed. “Don’t like a whole lotta people.”<br/>

</p>
<p>Okay, she needed another avenue of support for this man.</p><p>“Is there anywhere special you feel most comfortable?”</p><p>He didn’t look her way as he thought over her question. “The woods.  Could spend hours in the woods. Trackin’ an’ huntin’.”</p><p>“Perhaps you should spend more time doing those things then,” she started, pushing a lock of hair away from her face. “Hobbies have a way of soothing our souls. There is a reason writers spend so much time writing, or musicians playing their music. Hobbies are very therapeutic. They give us something positive to focus on. Do you do much hunting?”</p><p>“Not as much as I would like,” he admitted, watching the cars below. “Always wanted t’ buy a new bow. They are so much quieter than guns. One I got now has a sticky trigger. Sometimes the damn thing shoots and sometimes I don’t.”</p><p>Nibbling on her lips, Beth suppressed a gloating smile. Finally, a breakthrough, she thought as she encouraged him. “I suggest you find a way of obtaining that bow then, Mr. Dixon. Legally, of course, even if you have to set ten dollars a week aside to obtain it. Within a year, you would be surprised at the bow you’d be able to buy. I also encourage you to spend at least one day a week in the woods.”</p><p>They talked for several more minutes and before she knew it their time together came to a conclusion. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Daryl. I really look forward to our meeting next week.”</p><p>“Sure ya wanna see me, or my ass, Miss Greene?”</p><p>With a roll of her eyes, a chuckle slipped free as she watched Daryl exit the office and proceed down the hall. Daryl Dixon was definitely a dangerous man, she determined. To her surprise it was a completely different type of danger, however.</p><p> </p><p>“He called me Doogie Howser,” Beth confided to Carol over lunch. She glared at her secretary over the fry she started to stick into her mouth, when the older woman laughed. Everyone seemed to be in on the joke besides herself, and that was so maddening. “I don’t even know who this Doogie is, but I’m beginning to think it’s a bad thing.”</p><p>Carol glanced at the woman she’d been working for, for the last six months. The young lady was the smartest person she’d ever met, but the most absurd words had just fallen from her lips. “Are you serious, Beth? How can you not know who Doogie Howser is?”</p><p>“Never heard of him,” she stated munching the fry and tossing the burnt tip. With a wave of her hand, she said, “Since you seem to know so much, why don’t you tell me?” </p><p>Carol released another series of giggles. “Oh for the love of God, Beth.”</p><p>“God has nothing to do with this,” Beth explained with a scowl. “Daryl Dixon, does however. So why don’t you spit it out already?”</p><p>“Doogie Howser was a TV show about a teenage M.D.” Carol’s soft gray eyes studied the psychologist in front of her. She’d never seen Beth so worked up by a patient before and that had her curiosity. She had a suspicion there was something more going on here that Beth wasn’t elaborating on. “Are you sure this only has to do with the fact that he called you a child doctor?”</p><p>“Well what the hell else would it have to do with?” Beth seethed. Child doctor, indeed. How dare he compare her to a kid and then make several advances on her. Of course, she was the one who’d been caught staring at parts of his anatomy she had no business looking at. “He’s just so infuriating. You have no idea.”</p><p>Gray brows rose toward her hair as Carol sat back in her seat. Bravely, she mentioned her suspicions aloud. “What I do know, Beth, is that you haven’t stopped talking about him since we arrived here for lunch. Is it possible you have a crush on your patient?”</p><p>Beth’s eyes went wide, and she darted her worried gaze around the crowded McDonald’s. “Absolutely not. That’s crazy talk, don’t say it again.”</p><p>“What’s so bad about finding a man attractive?” Carol wanted to know watching Beth’s cheeks heat up. “It’s not a bad thing to like a man, Beth.”</p><p>She couldn’t believe her ears. Had everyone went mad? “Are you crazy? If anyone so much as noticed this, whatever it is, I could lose my license, Carol. I am not going to let that happen. Ever.”</p><p>“Perhaps we should talk about something else then,” Carol suggested taking this news seriously. “How’s your family doing?”</p><p>“Fine,” Beth grumbled taking a bite of her salad. Around the lettuce in her mouth she enlightened Carol to another small fact. “He accused me of looking at his ass. Can you believe that?”</p><p>“Were you?”</p><p>Beth didn’t get a chance to answer the direct question because their conversation was interrupted. “Beth? Beth Greene?”</p><p>Beth’s head whipped around to find a man with glasses headed in her direction. It was slow to Beth on her who the man was but like a balled up fist recognition hit her in the face. “Milton? From abnormal psych, right?”</p><p>“The one and the same,” he grinned stopping before her table. “It’s been a while. How have you been?”</p><p>“Good,” she nodded, not feeling the need to go into too much detail.  While she knew who Richard was, they had never been close, or friends for that matter, she determined. “How are you?”</p><p>“Great, actually, I just got back from Europe. I did some traveling for a few months.” Milton explained, digging through his suit pocket. Easily, he handed her his card. “Why don’t you give me a call and we can catch up.”</p><p>Feeling obligated she took the card he offered. She doubted she’d call. She and Richard didn’t exactly run in the same circles. You don’t run in Daryl Dixon’s circle either but you sure stared at his chest with eagerness, she chided, slipping Miltion’s card into her purse. Nodding slightly, she said, “I will.”</p><p>“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Milton smiled, with a final wave he made his way to the closest exit.</p><p>The minute Milton left the table he was all but forgotten as Beth went back to her earlier conversation. She could lie to Carol. It was only a little white lie anyway. “Was not checking out his ass, or anything else.”</p><p>Carol was in a tailspin and she had to search for memory of their earlier conversation. When it came back to her she simply smiled. “U’huh.” </p><p>XXXX<br/>
XXXX</p><p>Daryl sat in his dingy recliner later that night. Some old program played on the tube but he paid the show little attention his mind straying to his lovely therapist. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly as he thought of the way her cheeks had heated because of his teasing. </p><p>Scratching at his beard with short chewed fingernails, he grunted as laughter erupted from the television. He briefly listened to the show before his thoughts once again drifted to the psy… psychologist, right? </p><p>That was her title. She was a psych… psychologist. A head doctor. A shrink.</p><p>He had a feeling she was much more than just a therapist. She seemed to have a genuine interest in his life. Was she so attentive to her other patients? Something told him she was.<br/>

</p>
<p>She’d said he should drop a couple of bucks in a jar for a new bow. His sharp gaze left the television to look toward his kitchen. His eyes lingered on the countertop briefly before coming back to the TV.</p><p>Before he even realized what he was about, he climbed to his feet, his work roughened hand dug into the back pocket of his jeans. He slipped his wallet free as he walked into the kitchen. He paused as he glanced around looking for something to use as a jar.</p><p>Finding nothing immediately, he let out another grunt before yanking the cabinet open to explore the contents. Spotting nothing in the first, he ripped open the second and then a third. With little options, he consider the coffee can tucked in the corner of the cabinet only a moment before reaching inside and grabbing the tin.</p><p>Strong fingers peeled the lid back to find an inch worth of grounds left. Stepping over to a saucepan on the stove, he dumped the contents of the tin into the pan. Daryl sat the can on the countertop as he opened his wallet and pulled out a twenty. Tossing the bill in the can, he started to step away from the counter when he came to a standstill. </p><p>He stood there for a long moment studying the bill before looking into his wallet again. Cool blue eyes looked through the bills. “Guess I can spare a few more bucks.”</p><p>Two more bills joined the first, and before he walked away from the counter he’d put fifty bucks into the coffee can. He was about to resume his place in front of the television when the phone rang. </p><p>His brow crinkled as the chime sounded again. Who could be calling him this late? </p><p>Heavy booted feet strode to the end table, and he swiped his cell from the top. Glancing at the screen, his eyes briefly closed as he read the number. </p><p>The county jail. Only one person would be calling him from the county. An aggravated breath slipped from his lips as he answered the call and listened to the recording. When the automated voice ended, his gruff voice filled the living room. “What now, Merle?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Another therapy session</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I want to say thank you all so much for joining us in this story. I'm very happy you all are enjoying it, and I love hearing what you think, so feel free to tell me about it. Thanks to all those who read, review and kudo this work. It makes my day.</p><p>Please review...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The following week, Daryl slipped easily into Beth Greene’s office. When the judge had demanded he participate in this rehabilitation program he’d been more than a little put off. Hell, last week he’d went out of his way to make the girl-woman on the other side of the desk as uncomfortable as possible. He’d even gotten a few laughs out of the way she’d blushed at his teasing through the week. </p><p>Glancing at his ‘therapist’ now as he sat before her, he couldn’t help noticing the change in her appearance from the previous week. Instead of straightening her plush blond tresses, she actually curled every single strand and now had the thick mass pulled over one shoulder.</p><p>Last week, she hadn’t worn even a hint of makeup, but today, her eyes were lined with a black liner, her lashes combed with a thin layer of mascara, and a creamy tan shadow had been brushed across her eyelids. Not only had she dressed up her hair and eyes, he thought but the burgundy lipstick she wore kept drawing his attention.</p><p>It took a great amount of effort, but finally he pulled his gaze away from her face to take in the rest of her. She wore a jet black pant-suit, the buttons left open to reveal a thin white cotton blouse that dipped open in the front, leaving him staring at the top portion of her breasts.</p><p>“Did ya get all gussied up fer me, Doogie?” his lips twitched as he fought the urge to smile. Not many things in this world surprised him anymore, but the girl sitting across from him had today. “Are ya wearin’ pretty underthings too?”</p><p>He really enjoyed the way her cheeks lit up at his comment. They went from a pale white to the color of ripe cherries. </p><p>Beautiful. Clearing his throat, he forced his eyes away from her. If he kept looking at her this way, he’d forget he was ten years older than her. He would forget he was in hands off territory, and he might even pin her to the wall.</p><p>The thought of knocking the degrees gloating at him overhead to the floor sent a rush through his body. Shifting in his seat, he hid his very transparent reaction to this new, sexy Beth Greene. Just the idea of what he’d assume were lacy bra and panties beneath her polished exterior, caused him to grit his teeth.</p><p>What he wouldn’t give to find out, he thought, his eyes lingering on the lone diamond nestled just above her breasts. If he didn’t stop, he’d be visiting the bathroom, he decided.<br/>

</p>
<p>She was proud when only a slight quiver laced her tone when she’d simply stared him in the eye, saying, “Please, keep things professional, Mr. Dixon.”</p><p>She was surprised when he let the matter drop. “Why don’t you tell me what you did this week?”</p><p>She would never tell him his constant reference to her being a child doctor had influenced her appearance. And she could never let him know what his sexy comments were doing to her. Her nipples pebbled at his close regard. She could feel every single glance like a soft, feathered touch. Now she knew she was imaging things. Any touch from this man would not be soft. It would be just like the rest of him, hard and rough.</p><p>A rush of air left her lips as she let herself look at his hands. She could just imagine having them hard fingers wrapped in the silky strands of her hair.<br/>

</p>
<p>Geez, she really was starting to need a cold shower.</p><p>Daryl chose to ignore the way she was looking at him this time. If he kept drawing attention to it, there was a chance that she might stop and he didn’t like the thought of that. He liked the way her eyes turned molten, and the way her nostrils flared.</p><p>“I took yer advice and went huntin’ Saturday an’ Sunday,” he explained, his fingers playing with the whiskers on his chin. “Actually, jus’ got back this mornin’. Had this meetin’ an’ all or I might’a stayed longer.”</p><p>A gentle smile pulled at her lips. Who would have thought this big, rough man would take her seriously. “That’s good. Did you have any luck?”</p><p>Excitement was evident in his words as he told her about his weekend. “I tracked this buck fer prolly ten miles, an’ I finally found it. The damnedest thing happened though. Seconds. I mean seconds before my arrow hit that buck above the heart, a bullet struck its skull. Turned out another hunter was trackin’ the same buck, so I was forced t’ let him have the kill.”</p><p>“You’ll get the next one, Daryl,” she told him confidently. “How about your work? Where do you work?”</p><p>“Work at a garage fixin’ cars,” he told her with a shrug. “Make alright money?”</p><p>“Do you enjoy it?” Beth wanted to know. Letting her intent gaze study his eyes. You could tell a lot about a person from their eyes. Their words may say one thing, but their eyes often said something else entirely.</p><p>“Pays the bills,” Daryl stated, brushing the greasy strands of hair from his brow. “Worked there fer years. Can’t really see doin’ anything else.”</p><p>Beth nodded her understanding. He didn’t exactly strike her as the office sort of fellow. Once again, she found her eyes straying to the biceps made visible by his sleeveless shirt. Under the weight of her gaze his muscle flexed, and her stomach tightened in response. </p><p>Nope. Definitely not an office person.</p><p>“I think yer bein’ inappropriate, Doogie.” A teasing light flashed in his usually dark cold blues when her eyes met his. His fingers gripping the arm of his chair as he leaned forward. “Hey, I don’t mind. Want me t’ take my shirt off?”</p><p>The prospect made Beth gulp. If he removed one article of clothing she’d melt into a heap in this chair. OMG, focus Beth, focus, she mentally chanted. Licking suddenly dry lips, she found herself gritting her teeth, otherwise she might do something stupid and tell him, yes.</p><p>Yes. Yes. Yes. Her body seemed to sing. She’d give a weeks’ worth of pay to see what was beneath that dirty flannel. His chest was probably just as defined as his arms, a tinge of chest hair speckled across his pecks, and heat rolled through her in waves. Growing hot over her own train of thought, she squirmed in her seat.</p><p>Shut up, she demanded her wayward thoughts.</p><p>“Let’s stay on track, Mr. Dixon,” she scowled, refusing to admit she found him remotely attractive. It wasn’t her job to find him attractive. It was her job to fix whatever was broken inside of him. Clearing her throat, she said, “Did you set some money aside for your new bow?”</p><p>How had she remembered that, Daryl wondered? She hadn’t even glanced at her notes or anything. Was she really listening to him? What a shock. He’d been under the impression these people only did this for the money. If she remembered how much this meant to him without looking over her notes, could she possibly really care?</p><p>“Put fifty bucks in a can,” he told her, his forefinger rubbing back and forth across his lips as he spoke. “Prolly could’a put a hundred but needed supplies this weekend.”</p><p>Beth was surprised Daryl had taken her advice. When she’d suggested it, it had only been a means for him to open up a little to her. Pride filled her. Perhaps there was hope for this man after all. Maybe he didn’t want to be as hostile as his record proved him to be. Everyone need someone to open up to, to exercise the demons of the past and put old ghosts to bed.</p><p>“That’s really good, Daryl… You’ll have that new bow before you know it.” Beth encouraged, plucking at a button on her blouse. She wanted to reach toward him… hold his hand… offer comfort for the horror that had been his childhood. She wanted to push his bangs from his eyes… touch the scruff…</p><p>Stop it, Beth. It wasn’t right to think of touching Daryl… and she shouldn’t be watching the way he rubbed his lips either, yet she was unable to pull her eyes away. Deseprate to ignore the hum playing through her veins, she yanked her eyes away from him. “Tell me a little bit about your childhood.”</p><p>Instantly, Daryl’s face contorted and his behavior transformed before her. The relaxed expression was gone, and his body turned rigid. She wanted to take back her statement. She didn’t like stealing his peace, or the peace he had at this particular moment. This was her job, however, this is what she was supposed to do.</p><p>Anger darkened his eyes, and brow furrowed, his lip curling with a snarl. “It was pretty shitty actually. Mom died. Dad was a drunk… worthless fuckin’ human bein’… Hated everything… was always mad… Brother left… forgot all about me. What else y’ wanna fuckin’ know?”</p><p>Beth gathered her calm trying to stay unaffected by his vague description of his life. All she really wanted to do was go over there and give him the biggest hug. Instead she pushed the sadness filling her away and plowed forward. Her finger smoothed over her desk as she fixed him with a sympathetic look. “How did you handle that? Your family being so broken…”</p><p>“I fought… what the hell did y’ think I did,” he growled. "I fought anyone I could find... at school... around the neighborhood..."</p><p>“It shouldn’t have been that way… I want you to know… nothing that happened was your fault, and we can stop talking about it for now… but… but eventually, we will need to go back there. Find a way to let it go.” Beth chewed on her bottom lip as Daryl shifted uncomfortably before settling in his seat. “Let’s talk about your brother… what kind of relationship do you share with him?”</p><p>“Called last week…” He scoffed but his stance visibly changed again. “He’s in the fuckin’ can again. Story of our fuckin’ lives… One or the other of us… always in jail.”</p><p>“That’s not going to be you anymore,” Beth stated with affirmation. “I don’t care how long it takes… I’m going to help you through this, Daryl… You just have to let me.”<br/>
They talked for thirty more minutes before his time came to an end. “I wish we had more time, Daryl, but unfortunately the hour is up.”</p><p>Daryl was surprised how hard it was to climb to his feet. He couldn’t explain it, but he really did enjoy talking to her. It was easy somehow, even if she was only getting paid to listen. Needing to shake off this reluctance to leave, he stood from his seat. When she remained sitting, he looked at her for a long moment.</p><p>“Ya gonna walk me t’ the door,” He wanted to know, the teasing quality back in his voice. “Think it’s only fair I getta look at yer ass since ya looked at mine.”</p><p>She knew it was wrong. She should have stayed where she was, but none the less, she came to her feet and stepped ahead of him. He was indeed checking her out, she decided, feeling her ass heat up.</p><p>A nervous laugh erupted when he merely said, “Nice.”</p><p>Then he headed out into the hall before turning back to her. “Next week?”</p><p>“Next week,” she confirmed. </p><p> </p><p>She was really thrilled by the progress she was making with Daryl Dixon.  Next week would be soon enough to start on his upbringing, Beth determined, turning the key in the bolt on her apartment door. </p><p>“Dartmouth.”</p><p>She smiled down at the orange tiger cat curling around her legs. If her arms hadn’t been leaden down with files of her current cases, she would have scooped the cat up and gave him a proper greeting. “Sorry, Dart.”</p><p>Juggling the papers in her arms, she turned back to the door and flipped the lock back in place. “Come on, honey. I will get your food.”</p><p>Beth dropped the burden of her files on the dining table before making her way to the kitchen. Taking a can of cat food from the cabinet overhead, she cracked the tin open, and shook the food into Dartmouth’s dish. Letting her hand run down his back, she smiled as he arched into her touch.</p><p>Once Dartmouth was distracted by his empty stomach, her attention quickly turned to her own. She’d barely ate at lunch so wrapped up in her cases to entertain the thought of food. Now however her flat stomach rumbled with demand, wanting satisfaction immediately. Pulling the fridge open she stared in distaste at the contents. Apparently, she needed to go to the grocery store, she determined, studying the tub of butter, and a half empty carton of cottage cheese.</p><p>In seconds, she was standing be her speaker phone ordering Chinese. Considering it would be at least twenty minutes for her food, her attention went to the file on the table. Twenty minutes would hardly be enough time to get through the fifty or so pages, but she could definitely make a dent in them.</p><p>Pouring a half goblet of white wine, she kicked her shoes off near the dining room table and tucked the file under her arm as she made her way to the sofa. She made herself comfortable as she spread the pages out before her and began to read the contents. Sipping the wine, she set the goblet to the side. </p><p> </p><p>Beth quickly showered and got ready for bed. As she made her way to her king size pillow top, she found her thoughts straying back to Daryl Dixon. He was single handedly the most intriguing person she’d ever met. He was gruff, and strong, and never missed an opportunity to tease her.</p><p>She was flipping back the comforter on her bed when the blinking light on her home phone caught her attention. She’d been so preoccupied by her new patient she had completely forgotten to check her messages. Without conscious thought she pushed the button before she climbed in between the sheets.</p><p>MESSAGE 1: Hum and Click.</p><p>Huh, she thought.</p><p>MESSAGE 2: Click.</p><p>“Somebody definitely had the wrong number.” She told herself snuggling into the pillows beneath her head.</p><p>MESSAGE 3: Hey, baby, its Patricia. I was just calling to check up on you. Give me a call back.</p><p>Beth smiled to herself as the message ended. That was the type of parents she had. They called nearly every day to check on her wellbeing and she loved their concern. She was on the verge of drifting off to sleep when the next message played.</p><p>MESSAGE 4: BITCH!</p><p>That got her attention. Her eyes widened, and she set up in the big bed. What the hell was that? Was someone playing a joke on her?</p><p>MESSAGE 5: You’re gonna die, bitch.</p><p>End of messages: the answering machine beeped as it fell silent. </p><p>Who would play such a dirty trick? As she considered the thought, Dartmouth wandered into the room with a soft meow. A shiver raced down her spine, and she found herself frozen to the spot beneath her.</p><p>She was being irrational. Even if the messages weren’t a prank the building was secure. No one could get in without passing the doorman, and Allen always buzzed the apartment before sending guests up. </p><p>What should she do?</p><p>Her mind sifted through possible solutions. The only one that offered any comfort was calling the police. What would they do? Of course, they would investigate the number, but even if they found the person responsible, the culprit would receive a minor slap on the wrist.</p><p>Biting her lip, her wide eyes darted around the darkened room. Suddenly she felt apprehensive about all the shadows. She was being utterly ridiculous. No one was here. Releasing a shaky sigh, she forced herself to relax against the pillows.</p><p>She really needed to get to sleep, her days were far too long to miss a wink of shut eye. Just as she closed her eyes the phone rang. Her nerves caused her to jump, and her breathing picked up, her heart rate pumping wildly. When the phone chimed again, she reached a shaky hand to the receiver. Slowly, she lifted it to her ear. “Hello.”</p><p>All she heard on the other end was raspy breathing.</p><p>“Who is this?”</p><p>No answer. Slamming the receiver back in place, her eyes darted wildly around the room. She felt the strangest desire to flee. Where would she run? Her parents lived in the next county over. Her closest friend was across town, and Rebecca lived in New York.</p><p>She had no choice but to deal with this on her own for the time being. When the phone rang again, she let out a slight scream. Holy hell, whoever this was wasn’t going to stop, she decided. She suddenly wished she’d brought her cell phone into the bedroom as a safety precaution. Reaching toward the receiver, she simply lifted it and replaced it. If the cretin wanted to give her a scare he had succeeded, but she wouldn’t listen to one more word.</p><p>Flipping on the bedside lamp, she flipped the cover back and leapt from the bed. Turning on lights as she went through her apartment, she located her cell. Once she had it in hand, she immediately dialed the phone company.</p><p>“I would like to change my phone number,” she explained to the operator that answered. “I started receiving prank calls sometime today. No, I didn’t try blocking the number. Because they would only go to another phone. I want it effective immediately, thanks. No, I haven’t reported the calls to the police. I want that number unlisted please. I will, thanks.”</p><p>Pacing the living room, she hit the end button before making her way back to her room. She would simply have to overcome this irrational fear, she told herself.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Drop a line... Please Review.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello Everyone, I so excited to see how well this story is doing. Thanks to everyone who comments and kudos... It really means a lot to see your support... Thanks to all those who review, it is very encouraging. </p><p>Please review...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Beth barely left her apartment for the next few days after receiving those calls with the exception of work. She couldn’t explain this feeling and maybe the fear was just a little paranoia, but she felt as if she was being watched. She’d even went as far as to draw all the blinds in her apartment making it impossible for anyone to see inside.</p><p>Her favorite show was about to come on, and she hated to admit her fear, but she was a tad afraid to watch it. Which was utterly ridiculous… just plain stupid. She’d been watching this show for years, and the cases had never scared her before. </p><p>Nothing new or exciting had happened. There had been no more calls from the prankster, but she still used precautions when answering the phone, letting them leave a message or announce who they were before answering. Ever since she’d informed her parents of her new number, they’d called repeatedly to check up on her, knowing without being told something was wrong.</p><p>Biting her nail, she stared at the flat screen she had yet to turn on.  She was being silly. She wouldn’t let someone frighten her out of living, after all her show was what had inspired her to go into the field of psychology anyway, and she loved her profession.</p><p>Releasing a tense sigh, she grabbed the remote from the end table, and turned the TV on scanning the guide for Law and Order: SVU. B.D. Wong was her role model. It may be a show, but she had always loved the brilliance of his character. She loved how he could simply study a person and determine their motives or listen to their profile and immediately diagnosis their illness.</p><p> Feeling a tad edgy, she sat on the edge of the couch cushion as the program started. Taking a sip of her wine she suddenly wished she had something stronger. Anything that would help her sleep through the night. As it was, she’d barely get a wink or two before her eyes would snap open and she’d scan the shadows.</p><p>Gradually, her tense muscles began to ease, and she sat further back on the couch. As she began to watch the show her mind began to drift. What she wouldn’t give to have a set of arms to snuggle into. To feel protected, and wanted, she thought.  </p><p>There would be plenty of volunteers if she allowed herself a date or two, but she was completely focused on her career at the moment and didn’t have time for a relationship. She would make it to New York, and nothing would stand in her way.</p><p>That small fact didn’t stop her from imagining a set of sweat covered arms wound around her trim form, however. Her eyelids fell across her eyes as she imagined nuzzling the whiskers that roughened his firm jaw. If she focused right, she could actually smell his earthy scent, and she was addicted to that aroma.</p><p>What was she doing?</p><p>She’d only met the man twice and he was a criminal. A CRIMINAL. She couldn’t lose sight of that fact. There was no use in becoming attached to someone like Daryl Dixon. He was wild, carefree, and as unpredictable as a rattlesnake.</p><p>What would he be like in bed, she wondered, stifling a moan?</p><p>She needed to get laid, she thought. Problem was she was still a virgin and there was no way she’d just let anyone into her bed.</p><p>Chewing on the inside flesh of her cheek, she tried to push the redneck from her mind. What would his kiss be like?</p><p>“That is not getting him out of your head, Beth,” she told herself. Petting Dartmouth’s silken paw, she glanced over at the cat. “Probably would be rough, and brutal.”</p><p>That small fact only seemed to intrigue her even more. His tongue deep in her throat, his teeth scrapping over her jaw to her neck, sucking so hard on the flesh there, he’d leave the delicate skin sore and bruised. Her young body convulsed at the thought, a rocket of sensation shooting through her groin causing her panties to grow wet.</p><p>He’d pluck ruthlessly at her breast, twisting the nipple painfully, biting the mound making her yelp in response. When an actual cry left her lips, her eyes popped open, and the familiar confines of the living room swam before her.</p><p>After several attempt to pay attention to the show in front of her, she gave an aggravated sigh before reaching for the remote and turning it off. Grabbing her cat to her chest, her fingers gripping her cell tightly, she made her way to her room.</p><p> </p><p>A WEEK LATER</p><p>Beth was still jumpy from the prank calls to her apartment, and she’d barely been able to sleep over the last several days. Considering she’d changed her home number, she’d found little need to report the calls to the police, after all the calls had stopped.</p><p>Yet every time Carol buzzed her for an appointment she nearly leapt from her skin. Tucking a loose curl of hair behind her ear, she pushed the button to the intercom. “Please send Mr. Dixon in, Carol.”</p><p>She could hear his heavy boots treading down the hallway, way before he actually stopped at her office door. When he cracked the heavy oak, Beth pasted a smile on her face. “Please come in, Daryl and take a seat.”</p><p>He looked the same exact way as he had upon their first meeting, and Beth instantly forgot everything but him as he shut the door and made his way to her desk. He may look scruffy and roughed up, but he oozed sex appeal. Biting her lip to hide the electricity sliding through her veins, Beth stood waiting for him to take a seat.</p><p>If only she had those arms to lay in every night, she thought. Perhaps she could get a whole night sleep without freaking out over every single creak she heard. She found herself unwillingly staring at his bicep, and her eyes nearly rolled in her head at the thought of having that solid muscle beneath her head.</p><p>Where were these thoughts coming from?</p><p>She had absolutely no business thinking of her patient in this manner. Shaking the thought out of her mind, she straightened her blouse as Daryl took his seat. “You look well this afternoon.”</p><p>Daryl nodded as he studied the woman before him. Was it just his imagination or did she look shaken? Instantly, he noticed the bags she’d tried to cover with makeup beneath her eyes. Was she not getting enough sleep?</p><p>Normally, he would have made some comment about the way she was looking at him, but there was a hint of fear in those eyes that hadn’t been there before. He was fairly sure, she wasn’t scared of him, yet something had put that glint there.</p><p>She was still beyond beautiful, he decided. Her hair was like spun gold and looked as soft as silk. Not that he knew what silk felt like, but he imagined it was as soft as what her hair looked. There seemed to be worry tinging her light blue irises and her easy smile seemed to be a bit forced.</p><p>“I’m good,” he replied sitting back in his seat to study her. “What ‘bout you? Y’ alright, Doogie? Look a bit frazzled since the last time we met.”</p><p>Beth’s gaze darted briefly to the window before returning to his. She should have known she wouldn’t be able to hide from his penetrating stare. She couldn’t keep her lip from quivering as she forced herself to nod. She couldn’t tell this man her problems, he was a client… not her friend. “I’m good. What would you like to talk about this week?”</p><p>A desperate need clawed at her throat, wanting more than anything to confide in him. Something told her he would be the first person to defend her, but etiquette prevented her from relaying the last week’s events.</p><p>Daryl picked up on her lie. She looked on the verge of spilling the beans, but she must have changed her mind, rattling off some nonsense instead. If he thought she would change her mind he would have given her an extra push, but he didn’t think it’d do much good.</p><p>Rolling his shoulders to release the tension building between his shoulder blades, he shifted to a more comfortable position. “Should have one of them things ya lay on.”</p><p>“Couches?” Her brow lifted as she filled in the blank with a chuckle. “I have never seen one in an actual psychologist’s office. Think they only give that allusion in TV shows, Daryl.”</p><p>She kept from smiling at the thought of having this big tough biker looking guy sprawled on a couch in her office. Her gaze instantly sought out the hairs poking out of his shirt. Her nostrils flared as her interest spiked. She needed to get a grip on reality. She would never know the pleasure of having anything to do with this man outside of a professional manner, and rightly so, she determined.</p><p>“See somethin’ ya like?” Daryl saw the direction of her gaze, and he also noticed her tiny nostrils flaring on a wave of emotion. He knew he should ignore the flash of desire he caught in her sky blues, but he found himself unable to. A light smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as her eyes darted to his.</p><p>She saw plenty that she liked. His arms, his mouth, his dirty hair. The way he noticed something was bothering her. The way he looked as if he was ready to defend her if she gave him the go ahead. The protectiveness she spotted in his gaze was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, and it left her feeling kind of desperate. </p><p>Beth felt her cheeks go pink. This man missed nothing. Instead of answering, she nibbled her lip in speculation. While she’d never had sex before she could envision their limbs tangled together in a rather intimate position. </p><p> She’d been doing that a lot lately, she noted. Seeing them in positions she really knew nothing about. A flare of heat slid down her throat, her blood rushing to the tips of her breast, causing her nipples to peak.</p><p>As if her body’s reaction to Daryl wasn’t bad enough, she had to endure having him witness her hormones firsthand. Dear heaven above, she prayed as his gaze seemed to penetrate the cream-colored blouse she wore. When she noticed the tick in his jaw as if he too were restraining himself, she just barely managed to suppress a groan.<br/>

</p>
<p>Clearing her throat, Beth managed to gather some control as she started. “Let’s talk about your use of alcohol and other narcotics.”</p><p>She would have loved to jump headfirst into his past, yet she thought it wisest to stay in the present for a while longer. Maybe if they tackled the current problems, they could eventually unravel the actual causes of them.</p><p>That got his attention. He gave a nonchalant shrug his eyes once again meeting hers. Nipping the skin around his nail with sharp teeth, his lashes dropped a fraction as he regarded her.  “What do ya wanna know?”</p><p>“What substances do you find yourself using, Daryl? Be honest, anything you tell me is strictly confidential and will not leave this room.”  </p><p>Honestly, she didn’t really need him to answer her question. She combed through every inch of his file, and she was already aware of his weaknesses, but she wanted him to feel completely at ease with her. It was important for him to admit the problems he had aloud, and talk them through with her, instead of her talking at him. If he thought for one second, she was trying to control him, he would resist. It wouldn’t be because he necessarily wanted to, it would be more out of habit than anything. </p><p>He reminded her of a wild mustang in that way. The mustang may let your fingers brush over its soft muzzle, yet the second it spied the halter, its fight was completely renewed. The harness causing it to take flight, sending the animal fleeing for the nearest escape, hiding in shadows until it felt safe.</p><p>She could tell by the way he fidgeted this was an uncomfortable topic, yet there was no need for him to be embarrassed or think less of himself for it. Many people smothered their pain with drugs. She saw the cycle more than she didn’t, she thought sadly. “Is there anything in particular that you enjoy?”</p><p>“Mostly drink,” he shrugged, shifting in his seat. “Sometimes a little too much. Get high on occasion.”</p><p>“What types of drugs do you get high off of?”</p><p>She felt this overwhelming need to go to him, crouching down next to him, run soothing fingers over his scruff covered jaw. Place a comforting kiss on his forehead… hold him, but somehow, she stayed in her seat. He definitely didn’t look proud of himself, and his voice was tinged with regret.</p><p>“Weed, sometimes pills. They help me sleep, Smoke cigarettes regularly… Been doing it since… since….”</p><p>What man wanted to admit that he has nightmares to a beautiful woman, therapist or no?  He knew what her next question would be and he inwardly cringed. Why did he use drugs? What were the benefits?</p><p>Beth wasn’t even mildly surprised by his admission. She would have been more surprised if he’d informed her, he didn’t use. Scribbling down the information he readily provided, she continued. “How long have you been drinking and using?”</p><p>This time Daryl did feel the need to escape. Quickly, he climbed to his feet and took several steps to the window. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared out the window at the clear blue sky. “I guess, since I was old enough to know how to inhale. Maybe nine, ten.”</p><p>Wow, she thought as she quickly jotted down the specifics. She supposed if she’d been raised as he, she would have done the same. Maybe not, who really knew. Each person handled the pain of a troubled past differently. On exceedingly rare occasions, victims would strive for success and climb out of the tattered world that had been intent on suffocating them.</p><p>Swallowing past the lump forming in her throat, she let her roaming gaze find and trace the lean figure standing next to the window. Obviously, he would focus on the great outdoors. He found comfort outside, not as trapped, and restricted.</p><p>“How often do you find yourself seeking the pleasures of drinking and using?”</p><p>“As often as possible,” he admitted, his fingers tracing the whiskers of his beard, his gaze never leaving the clear blue sky. “Only thing that takes the mind off things fer longer than a few minutes at a time.” </p><p>He hated this. He hated admitting that he was so weak. That as a grown man he still couldn’t shake the shouted insults and feel of the strap against his back. Although, she had not brought up his upbringing, he knew without being told that’s where they were heading.</p><p>He shifted nervously as his mind transported him back in time. He was five years old, hovering in the darkest corner of his closest, shivering, and nearly wetting his pants as his father stomped through the house. As if it were happening all over again, he could hear things being thrown and his father yelling his name. Daryl’s tiny shoulders shook as he prayed for his father to pass out and stop hunting him.</p><p>Just when everything had quieted and he’d thought it safe to leave his hiding spot the door had been ripped open, his father’s hard fingers wrapping around his tiny bicep. “C’mere ya little shit. Think ya can hide from me.” </p><p>Beth saw him flinch as a memory stole his attention. “Daryl, you alright?”</p><p>She wished she could go over there and give him a hug, yet that would hardly be professional. It was hard though to stay in her seat. Possibly the hardest thing she’d ever done.<br/>

</p>
<p>“How does it help, Daryl?” She didn’t need him to tell her why or how taking drugs helped him cope with the past. She’d spent the last five years studying people like him. Yet if she could get him to see the reasons he used, maybe she could get him to see he’d benefit from her help.</p><p>He refused to look at her as he spoke, watching the traffic five stories below instead. “It’s numbing. When I smoke, or drink I rarely dream. Those are probably the best nights.”<br/>

</p>
<p>So, he had nightmares, she’d guessed. Jotting down this information, she made a note to come back to these later. They would definitely have to come back to them eventually. “Do you find yourself more aggressive when you use, Daryl?”</p><p>“Only when I drink,” Daryl stated on a murmur. “When I smoke it’s usually relaxin’, an’ mellows me out.”</p><p>“There are other ways to deal with the trauma you have experienced. Ways that aren’t so destructive.” Beth shifted in her seat apprehensive of bring up the meetings she would like Daryl to attend. “How about we talk about something else for a few minutes… sort of like a break.”</p><p> They continued to talk for the next forty minutes before his session came to an end. Feeling like they made a great amount of progress, Beth rose from her seat needing to stretch her legs. Pulling a piece of paper from a pile on her desk. “Before our next meeting, I would like you to choose a support group from the list on this sheet. I think you will find people to relate to at these meetings.”</p><p>His eyes were downcast as he plucked the sheet from her long trim fingers. “Don’t know how it’ll help.”</p><p>“It will show you are not as alone as you may think,” Beth explained, itching to take hold of his chin until he met her gaze. She didn’t like the ashamed look on his face. Yet if he were ashamed then there was a good chance, he’d want to improve this part of his life. “You won’t have to talk if you don’t want, just listen to the other people. Most have come from similar backgrounds, and they know they can’t get through their traumas alone.”</p><p>As she mentioned troubles, her thoughts instantly went to the prank calls she’d received. If she could only erase the sound of that raspy voice that made her skin crawl.</p><p>Daryl picked up on the weariness in her voice. Immediately, he strode to her side, his gaze sweeping over her cheeks that paled several shades before his eyes. He didn’t know what was bothering her, but it was sure something. She looked as if she were about to faint. He couldn’t explain this overwhelming urge to protect her, but it was there.</p><p>Her breath caught in her throat as he came to her side. He was so much taller and bigger than she. If he took her into his arms his body would definitely engulf hers. She was taken by surprise when he dug into his pocket and offered her a piece of paper.</p><p>“If y’ need me, Doogie, gim’me a call.”</p><p>She couldn’t help wishing she could do just that. Wistfully, she watched him disappear down the hall. Her attention dropped to the paper she held. A frown pulled at her lips as she studied the digits. Before she could think twice, she balled the tiny paper up and threw it into the waste can.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for reading...<br/>Please review.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Drop a line... Please review<br/>The progress of this story is determined by the response it receives.<br/>Thanks so much for reading.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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